Ode to a Red Shirt
by HlysComment
Summary: This is a story dedicated to all the "red shirts" of Atlantis. Ronon and Sheppard are featured.


Title: Ode to a Red Shirt

Author's Note: I was watching Letters From Pegasus and Dr. Weir sending messages to the families of the "expendable" characters who had died at that point and then I thought of "Died of Wounds" a poem by Siegfried Sassoon and this story popped into me head. An ode to the "red shirts" of Atlantis.

Featured Characters: John S. & Ronon D.

Other Characters: R. McKay

Ronon felt the world come alive slowly around him.

Sensation first; pain, there was something attached to him and he was aware that he wasn't wearing his own clothes.

Sound second; beeping, hushed voices, cries, shouted orders. He thought he knew then, where he was.

He opened his eyes and let sight confirm his suspicions. He was in the infirmary.

Nurses and doctors walked quickly to and fro with the brisk industry of purpose. No hesitation, not a fraction of a second wasted in any movement. Ronon looked around and understood why. The infirmary was full in a way he hadn't seen since the time almost the entire base had fallen ill. Except, Ronon hadn't been ill that time and the bandages scattered liberally among the prone figures in the beds removed any possibility this was some kind of illness.

_What happened?_ Ronon thought dazedly. He couldn't remember. Then he heard a shout.

"_Gerry! Don't!"_ someone cried. Ronon reacted instinctively to the plea. His body tried to sit, to rise but failed and he collapsed with a grunt that before his time with the Wraith would have been a scream. For a few seconds all he could think about was the pain radiating from his abdomen.

When he had recovered himself, he looked toward the sound and saw a nurse leaning over one of the figures entombed in the clean white of the infirmary robes and the bloodied white of bandages. Lt. Thomas. Lt. D. C. Thomas.

"D.C. Thomas!" The Lt. had introduced himself with a proffered hand and an impish grin. "If you say it fast it sounds like D.C. Comics." He had added. Ronon had smiled because the young man's tone of voice implied that the similarity should be amusing. He had then turned instinctively to Sheppard for an explanation.

"It's the name of a comic book company. Comics are illustrated stories that were originally designed to entertain children. But now they've kind of evolved into, well, a sort of art form really. In fact, the most popular movies these days are usually based on comics."

Ronon had grunted a bit since he felt a reply was expected but had nothing to say. It was something about the Earthlings that was mildly annoying; they always seemed to want you to say something.

"By the way, nice shirt, Lieutenant." Sheppard had said then.

Ronon had looked more closely at the young man's red shirt. It didn't seem that interesting. It was just a plain red shirt with the word "Expendable" written across the front in bold lettering and a strange logo to one side.

"Thanks, Sir!" Thomas had smiled. "My brother got it for me at Comic-Con."

Ronon looked at Sheppard again, slightly annoyed this time. Sometimes the Earthlings seemed to be speaking a different language.

"Comic-Con is a big conference where people get together and talk about Comics. At least, they're supposed to talk about comics though lately they seem to spend more time talking about movies and TV shows based on comics."

Sheppard paused then continued. "And movies and TV shows that don't have anything to do with comics but that producers think will appeal to people who like comics."

"Don't forget video games, Sir." Thomas added obligingly.

"Thank you, Thomas. Can't forget about them." Sheppard grinned. "Anyway, the shirt is funny because of this TV show. A really old TV show about going to other planets."

Ronon raised an eyebrow at that.

"Yeah, see." Sheppard had said and then Thomas had taken over the explanation.

"See, the Captain of the ship would always be going down to planets in dangerous situations and the people who made the show had to made the audience feel like there was real danger but they couldn't kill the main characters. So, they always sent some miscellaneous crewman down and he'd get killed by the rock monster or alien to demonstrate that this was a truly life and death situation to the audience."

Ronon still didn't get it. "Okay…" He had prompted.

"Yeah, well, the crewmen were almost always wearing red shirts. So, red shirt! Expendable."

Ronon looked from Sheppard to Thomas. They were both grinning in a rather idiotic way. They wanted him to say something.

Ronon grunted.

Sheppard turned back to Thomas. "Do you think your brother could send an extra one of those next time we get a care package from Earth?"

Thomas had grinned, "I don't think this applies to you, Sir. You're the captain of this little band, right?"

Ronon had been surprised at how thoroughly that had sober Sheppard.

"That shirt, Lieutenant, is a joke that applies just as much to me as it does you." Sheppard had said, all levity gone from his voice. "No one on my base is expendable. Is that understood?"

Thomas had sobered too but there was no apprehension in his expression, only appreciation.

The young man had smiled, "Yes, sir. I'll see about getting you that T-shirt, sir."

The nurse at Lt. Thomas' bed seemed to be trying to hush the injured man who was still yelling to Gerry to stay under cover. Ronon had been on enough battlefields to recognize the soldier's plight. In his mind, Lt. Thomas was still on the field, trapped in a nightmare of bullets and death.

Ronon wanted to get up and go to him; to comfort him and tell him that it was over. That he was safe. But the pain rushed over him so fiercely that it robbed him of his sight and obliterated all other sensation. Ronon fought, but the world was slipping and soon he was dead to it once again.

When next he woke, Ronon was instantly aware of his surroundings and of the fact that they were significantly quieted and calm.

"Hey, Ronon?" He turned toward McKay's voice. The scientist was sitting on the stool next to Ronon's bed. His arm was in a sling and there were ugly shallow cuts around his left ear which was heavily bandaged.

"Are you there? I mean, here? I mean, are you feeling okay?" McKay said uncertainly.

"Yeah, McKay. I'm here." Ronon answered and then he looked over at Lt. Thomas. The face in the bed was smiling, eating blue jello and talking to a visiting friend; but it wasn't Lt. Thomas' face.

It was now a week after Kolya's men had ambushed and penned down Ronon and his team. Atlantis had sent reinforcements and two of those soldiers: Lt. Gerald "Gerry" Sassoon and Lt. Douglas "D.C." Thomas had died in the successful rescue mission.

Ronon knew that Sheppard would never accept the mission as a success. He watched his friend quietly as they sorted through the sparse room. Ronon had insisted on helping Sheppard with this task.

All personal belongings of the fallen at Atlantis had to be searched to ensure no items were shipped back that might raise questions with friends and family. Many in Atlantis had come to see it as a sort of ceremony; a last service for the dead.

Ronon watched Sheppard pull out the red shirt. The Colonel looked at it for a moment and then marched angrily to the Lieutenant's work area, grabbing a marker. He wrote on the shirt and then sat down on Thomas' bed and wept. The shirt was slightly crumpled in Sheppard's hands but Ronon could see what Sheppard had done. The shirt now declared its wearer, "NOT Expendable".

Ronon laid his hand on his friend's back. He let Sheppard know that he was there, standing guard over his grief.

Sometimes silence was the best way to say something. Sometimes silence was the only way to say something.

_**His wet white face and miserable eyes  
Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs:  
But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell  
His troubled voice: he did the business well. **_

_**The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining  
And calling out for 'Dickie'. 'Curse the Wood!  
'It's time to go. O Christ, and what's the good?  
'We'll never take it, and it's always raining.'**_

_**I wondered where he'd been; then heard him shout,  
'They snipe like hell! O Dickie, don't go out...  
I fell asleep ... Next morning he was dead;  
And some Slight Wound lay smiling on the bed. **_

_**By: Siegfried Sassoon **_


End file.
